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Malarkey

Futility

The last few weeks I have been regularly moved to tears by the toast-rack in one of the kitchen drawers.

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Sprockets

No more trousers for John Quays

(This is a C&P from an aged LJ post, inspired by some tangenteering on someone else’s FB. I’m posting it here because I’m not sure that adding to the tangenteering will help, although that does mean that half the people involved won’t be able to see it. Such is FB.)

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Interociter

The excitement never starts

One of the things that I’m doing at work is hacking on our VM-build rig so that is it less terrible to use. [1] Coincidentally, there’s some network-fondling going on that will make it ’trivial’(tm) to do IPv6 on the servers. So I have this medium-sized chain of VMs and config running on the Xen cluster in the basement and fucking hell has it been a right old laugh to make any of it work, hoo boy let me tell you.

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Angry brigade

A pictorial guide to the mountains of madness

Many years ago, when plotting my escape from VBCnet (ISP. Run by a Vietnam vet, which was, um, interesting) I went for an interview at something called X-Stream. The nice recruitment person was a bit secretive about what they did, mentioning little more than ‘ISP’ and ‘unique business model’.

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Jdam

All along a copy of The Watchtower

The other thing that happened in the recent past was that we beetled off to the US. Mostly because it had been long enough since the last trip that the essential horror of driving terrible cars on terrible roads to terrible restaurants where you try to talk to twenty people who all want separate bills and still manage to have a ‘but I only ordered a salad’ argument with the staff who even I can tell want to kill everyone and hide the bodies in the dumpsters round the back, had faded.

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